


Run to Me

by Valgus



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe - Human, M/M, Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-26
Updated: 2015-08-27
Packaged: 2018-04-17 08:35:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4659888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valgus/pseuds/Valgus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Depressed college graduate Alfred Jones went for a walk in rainy London with no umbrella... until a gentleman with suit and black umbrella by the name of Arthur picked him up and made him a cup of very tasty hot tea- so tasty that Alfred had to rethink about tea (he only drinks them chilled prior to his visit to England) and his romantic preference.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stray

It was raining heavily in London.

Alfred Jones walked alone underneath grey, crying sky with no umbrella. He didn’t know whether he was crying or whether it was just the rain.

*)*

It had been half a year since Alfred graduated from college and he still hadn’t been able to find any job. With mountain of debt he would have to pay, he couldn’t help but to detest himself. The cousin he shared apartment with, Matthew, still had two years to go in college. Even though Matthew said nothing, Alfred could tell that Matthew was the one who reported his situation to his parent. With his politician father, Alfred couldn’t help but to think that he soon would be a massive embarrassment.

His mother suggested that Alfred went somewhere different—somewhere he could sort his mind out. Alfred answered ‘London’ without thinking, because where else could be the best rainy place to get depressed at?

Alfred was given money to stay at decent hotel, but he took cheap motel even though the place made him had sleeping difficulty every night. Today, he checked out the motel and put his bags on the receptionist and paid a good twenty pounds for that, so Alfred could walk around aimlessly, cursing his existence, and wished that somehow life would rain him money.

His bomber jacket clung into his T-shirt in the most uncomfortable way possible because of the rain. His socks were soggy inside his wet sneakers as he walked, but Alfred wanted himself to suffer. He looked down, walking, maybe crying, and suddenly stumbled into something warm—and cursing.

“Bloody hell!” 

Alfred fell forward screaming, “Fuck!” and landed face first to wet pavement. He sat, his face was throbbing with pain, and turned around to see the bloody hell gentleman.

Underneath messy, slightly wet blond hair, laid a pair of thickest eyebrows Alfred ever seen on a human being. This gentleman was really something, because his pouting face made him looked like an angry teenager instead of possibly thirty-something male Londoner in fine grey suit, completed with umbrella and a pair of Oxford. His black umbrella fell next to him and he begrudgingly took it to shelter himself from the rain, but his eyes, his forest-green eyes, stayed on Alfred.

“I… I’m sorry,” stuttered the American as he put his glasses back upon his nose.

The guy in suit raised his caterpillar-like eyebrows, “Oh, are you?” he sneered and Alfred suddenly felt like crying. He had been crying for hours for now, perhaps, but he really didn’t need additional negative attitude towards him.

Alfred couldn’t but to feel thankful for the rain, because he didn’t want anyone to see him crying. The person he crashed into had stood up, his head covered in black umbrella, as he looked down upon Alfred who still sat on wet pavement.

“Get up,” he said and Alfred couldn’t help but to feel entertained by the way he said ‘get’. The ‘t’ had blurred into subtle ‘k’. It was so… not American.

“Are you gonna sue me?” was Alfred’s stupid reaction.

The Londoner’s eyebrows furrowed once again and Alfred wondered whether eyebrows could ever be so expressive. “No, I’m not going to sue a bloody crying boy. Now get up.”

Alfred felt his chest pang with pain. This weird guy with umbrella knew. “Then what?” he stood up, trying to brush his eyes from tears as he did.

“Then you should dry yourself and have a nice cuppa,” the other blond sighed. “Where are you staying?”

Alfred didn’t answer.

For the first time, the Londoner’s eyebrows stopped furrowed so intensely. He sighed again, “Then you’re coming with me.”

*)*

Alfred didn’t know why he followed a random English into his small flat that smelled absolutely like old books and library, but he did. He thought all Londoners lived in posh, red-bricked house (har har), but the thick-eye browed guy lived in a flat with bookshelves that reached ceilings. His place looked like a strange mix of tea café, library, and thrift shop, but British version. Alfred liked that there was so many things to see, though, from old posters on the wall to at least three dozens of Encyclopaedia Britannica on the shelf.

“I’m Arthur,” he said, appearing out of nowhere, his hand offered Alfred a big white towel.

Alfred took the towel—the towel smelled like the house and this Arthur guy, “Alfred. Alfred Jones.”

“Do you want to take a bath?” Arthur asked.

Alfred mumbled, “Well… yes… but don’t you want to take it first?”

Arthur shook his head, “I’m not that drenched. You’re drenched. Go clean yourself. If you need any new toothbrush, it’s under the sink.” Arthur’s head cocked into a direction behind the living room.

Alfred just nodded and followed Arthur’s head direction. When he looked back as he stopped in front of the small bathroom, he saw Arthur wiping the wet trail Alfred made in his small flat.

*)*

Fifteen minutes later, Alfred was sitting on the kitchen, gulping down the most wonderful, tasty cup of tea he had ever drink in his life. Alfred didn’t know hot tea could be so tasty. His kind of tea was chilled and full with ice cubes. Arthur also had some scones, which looked burnt but taste quite alright… or maybe Alfred was just hungry.

Arthur shirt was almost too small on Alfred’s somehow muscled torso, but Alfred didn’t mind. At least the Brit’s training pants fitted him just fine. Arthur himself only took off his upper suit and sat across Alfred on Merino sweater over white, long-sleeved dress shirt as he read newspaper.

Alfred glanced more than three times towards his strange saviour. Arthur’s gifted eyebrows were once again furrowed as his green eyes followed words on newspaper underneath his nose. He had finished his cup of tea and poured another one without really looking away from newspaper. His blond hair looked like a bed hair and Alfred somehow felt like ruffling it—or tidying it, maybe.

“Arthur,” called Alfred.

“Yes?” Arthur finally looked up to Alfred. 

Alfred felt like his heart just stopped. He found himself suddenly unable to take a breath, “Uh… thanks.”

“You’re welcome, Alfred,” Arthur returned to his newspaper. 

Alfred wanted Arthur to look at him longer. He wanted to see those green eyes staring at him longer. Arthur sipped his tea slowly, his fingers holding the tea cup in a way that Alfred wouldn’t see in America, so he chuckled. Arthur didn’t seem to listen. He kept reading and finished his cup of tea once again.

Alfred was sitting across him, suddenly wanting to reach out to Arthur, to hug him, to bury his face on that ridiculous bed hair, to inhale Arthur’s scent, to lost on Arthur whom he didn’t even know the last name.

“Arthur,” called Alfred once again.

“Yes, Alfred?” Arthur raised his face once again. His eyebrows weren’t furrowing and he was pouring tea to his cup again, but his sight was on Alfred.

Alfred took off his glasses.

Arthur had finished pouring tea. He still stared at Alfred, waited. Those green eyes were staring without blinking.

Alfred leaned forward over the newspaper and steaming teacups—and kissed Arthur on the lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LMAO, I'm not sure what is this, but I know there will be lots of USUK fluff later.
> 
> Maybe I just write this because I want them cuddle while it's cold and rainy outside.
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading! Hopefully I'll see you on the next chapter, where there'll be some commando situation going on.


	2. Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alfred's move to Arthur didn't go as the American thought. Nevertheless, somehow it ended rather abruptly.

Alfred’s arms were trembling as he hoisted himself up upon the table. A second ago, his mind was dominated with anxiety about the future and realisation that he was absolutely useless in this world. Now all he could think about was the way Arthur tasted in his mouth.

Arthur didn’t move as Alfred kissed him. It was no surprise that Arthur’s tasted and smelled like tea. But it wasn’t the delicious taste of tea that made Alfred trembled even more.

It was the warmth, the softness of the Brit’s lips. Alfred didn’t know that other people’s lips could be this smooth and inviting. Alfred slowly raising his right hand and placed his fingers under Arthur’s ear and chin, kissing the presumably older male deeper.

Alfred was nothing but ready that Arthur would kick him for being impolite. Still, the American didn’t stop kissing the others, savouring every moment his lips moved against Arthur’s. Alfred soon felt his whole body became warm. It was a different kind of warm with warm because he just had hot shower after soaked in rain. Moaning, Alfred raised his other hand, holding Arthur’s head with his two hands, and kissing the thick-eyebrowed Londoner hungrily.

Alfred still waited to be kicked away, but to his surprise Arthur opened his mouth and brushed Alfred’s tongue with his. Alfred’s yelp was muffled by the kiss, but he welcomed Arthur’s contribution to the kiss and they kissed over newspaper and teacups for God knows how long.

When Alfred was finally out of breath, he pulled back to a very red-faced Arthur. Arthur’s emerald-like eyes were slightly glistened with tears and Alfred wanted to make Arthur cry out of pleasure even more so badly. When Alfred was this close to Arthur, he felt like those green eyes sucked him, driving him mad, making him lose control. Before Alfred knew it, he was panting harshly and his body felt even hotter. He was captured by Arthur’s presence—his scent, his ragged panting, his warmth against Alfred’s body—and Alfred felt like drunk.

He didn’t think he could stop by now.

“Arthur,” moaned Alfred, staring at Arthur. Arthur must be several inches shorter than Alfred and—Alfred’s train of thought crumbled when he saw Arthur removed his sweater, wriggling the clothing without sleeve through his head.

Alfred slammed Arthur over the table, Arthur’s hips landed first, clattering the teacup and rustling the newspaper. Arthur howled a pained, “Ow!” but he panted and moaned as he brought Alfred’s lips into his by pulling Alfred’s neck with his arms. They kissed hungrily, passionately, but rather sloppily that the table underneath them creaked and wobbled.

Arthur sucked Alfred’s lip and twisted their tongues together much to Alfred’s surprise. Alfred panted, moaned, and pushed his whole front to Arthur, from face to chest to hips. With Arthur’s lips playing against his, sucking and nibbling, their tongues against each other, and the table underneath them rattled as Alfred’s moved his hips to Arthur’s hardness, Alfred didn’t think he could last long.

And he didn’t.

Before Alfred knew it, he came abruptly into Arthur’s borrowed pants, leaking through the fabric to the front of Arthur’s crotch. Panting, Alfred wiped sweat—since when did he sweat?—from his forehead and stared Arthur right in the eyes, “I can still go.”

Arthur nodded, lips red from kisses and eyes glancing twice to Alfred’s wet front. “Bedroom,” he panted and gestured with his chin towards a direction in the flat.

Alfred held Arthur in front of him and they kissed their way to Arthur’s bedroom.

*)*

Alfred’s mind was hazy and his vision was blurry from the walk, hug, and kisses, but he never felt so warm and satisfied in life before. He gently lowered Arthur to the bed—or so he thought. The truth was he pushed the Brit down, holding his wrists next to head, and kissing Arthur desperately, almost violently once again to the point that Alfred was afraid he would come again.

“Alfred,” moaned Arthur, struggling to form sentence. “You have to—ah! Ah… you have to prepare me,” he groaned and panted between the kisses. 

Alfred tried to think through the mist of lust, but he found his way somehow. He never thought that the random research he did on how sex between two penis owner works would let him had this absolute pleasure now. Arthur kicked the bedside table in his attempt to open the small drawer under it and Alfred took the clue.

It soon became apparent that Arthur’s only entrance was rather tight. Alfred was completely impatient and he wished he could just shove into Arthur. But the American took his time. Imagining that soon his hardness would be inside Arthur motivated him to stay calm and orderly. After all, good sex means both parties felt comfortable and Alfred couldn’t want anything more than Arthur’s comfort.

Alfred was trying so hard to remember every detail, every single Arthur’s gasp, but in the end, he couldn’t even think straight. With his fingers, slicked and wet inside Arthur, he could only hold himself from not fucking Arthur immediately while the other wasn’t yet ready.

With fingers shaking from impatience, Alfred finally managed to put on a condom and, at last, thrusting into Arthur, feeling Arthur’s inside enveloping his hardness in a way that made his whole body throbbed with heat and pleasure. 

Underneath Alfred, Arthur’s moans couldn’t be sexier. He furrowed his thick eyebrows and made troubled expression, though he moaned so wantonly. (“Ah! You git! Ah—Alfred! Don’t be so—ah!”) That was when Alfred realised that Arthur tried to hold it, which made Alfred thrust into Arthur even harder. The male underneath him yelped and tear up, his cock hard and leaking glistening precum against his pale stomach.

Alfred held Arthur’s hips with his two hands and decided he wouldn’t wait anymore. He needed his release and craved it like drowning man craves air. Alfred ignored Arthur’s hips bucking and back arching as he slammed and pounded into Arthur’s warmth. Alfred could feel the warmth from his lower stomach area grew stronger, so he slammed his hips forcefully to Arthur’s, who was moaning so much that his toes curled and legs jerked. Arthur’s voice him drove him to the very edge and Alfred felt like he could come simply by hearing Arthur squirming underneath him, “Ah! Alfred… ngh! G-git! Ah! Ah! Slow down! Ahhh!”

“Arthur,” moaned Alfred, biting his low lip in his attempt to hold on a little longer. “I’m going to—“

_Ding-dong!_

The bell rang throughout Arthur’s tiny flat.

Arthur froze under Alfred, so did Alfred.

An accented, giggly male voice came through intercom, “ _Bonsoir, Angleterre!_ I have come to feed you dinner with your favourite beef bourguignon! Please open the door!”

Alfred mouthed to Arthur through gritted teeth, his sweats dripping into Arthur underneath him, “Who the fuck is that?”

Arthur’s response was a blank face, with his caterpillar eyebrows straight. Most importantly, his dick went limp and Alfred knew that they would probably not reach climax together that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LMAO Francis has come to cockblock the day!
> 
> Also can we appreciate that France’s national animal is a cock—or rooster, if you prefer the term. How quirky is that?
> 
> Thank you so much for everyone who gave kudos, subscribed, and bookmarked this mess. Thank you for reading as well! 
> 
> See you on the next chapter!


End file.
